


Golden Flower Petals

by phalanges mccoy (empresswrit)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Supernatural Creatures AU, Supernatural Elements, Work In Progress, oooh sexy vampire biting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6689734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empresswrit/pseuds/phalanges%20mccoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New York City is about to be a warzone as the Vampiric Makris Clan and the Fairy King of New York team up to face against the Hunters that threaten their very lives... but a romance blooms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. PART 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hagios = protected by the gods.  
> Gloutos = Buttocks, but far ruder.  
> Methusai = Insult; “old woman.”  
> xenios = An ancient Greek concept of the honour of the gift-giver. To the Greeks, giving gifts, especially amongst high-born families, was as much a source of honour as receiving them.

**ATHENS, GREECE, 146 BC.**

Rhode’s fingers ghosted slightly along the few scrolls he had left from his time studying under Polomius. He had a pack clinging lightly to him—full of only the essentials for the journey: a bit of bread, a few berries, a tiny jar of wine, and a tablet. The air was crisp, a storm on the horizon, and the scholar had to get to the Parthenon before the Romans came. Fitting that rain would only come on the darkest day of the Grecian empire.

Stepping out into the whipping winds and cradling his scrolls to his chest, Rhode took a deep breath. Where was Argus when he needed him? Really, this was utter idiocracy! What did he even pay him for, when he was gone most of the time to Athena knows where? Rhode moved as quick as he could, following the path—he was to leave Greece tonight. If the Romans got to him, every last account of the fabled city of Atlantis would be gone—and the scholar would be discredited. Even if he were to send off something to the Library of Alexandria… there was no telling it would get there in time.

He had been the last of Polomius’s students to walk in the fabled halls of that Lantean place.  
He didn’t know he would be the first of a fabled breed.

Athens was still quiet, but Rhode kept to his word not to warn any of the others. Argus had been plain about that, that they would make an escape in the night, under the watchful eye of Nyx. Rhode had nothing but trust in Argus, and in the smallest part of his heart, he would even go as far to say that he loved him.

The scholar slipped into the Parthenon, their meeting place, and stood before Athena. Giving a customary bow and touching his thumb to his chin, and then to his forehead, Rhode Makris gave homage to his patron deity, Athena. Stepping out from the shadows, Argus gave a small smile, “You are a sight for sore eyes. You have them, then?”

Rhode’s blue orbs spun as he eyerolled and shuffled the scrolls, muttering, “Of course I don’t. What am I holding now? You’re such a gloutos. Where were you? I thought we were going to walk here together!”

Argus’s voice seemed strained as he said, “I made a detour.”

When the shuffling of feet came from behind him, Rhode immediately jumped to action. A Roman legionnaire stepped forward, giving a smirk, “Good work, Argus. You are protected by the gods on this night.”  
Utterly betrayed, Rhode shot Argus a look, “Methusai!”

Argus didn’t even flinch, instead, meandering to get closer to the scholar to steal a scroll or two, “Your fabled city… it doesn’t exist, does it?”

Rhode blanched as the Romans forced him to his knees, the scrolls tumbling out of his grasp. His life’s work was thrown out in front of all of them, and Argus had just stabbed him in the back. A slow chill crept up his spine, and before Rhode could even say another word in his defense, a member of the Roman party took a step forward.

“Xenios, is that the word? It would be my honor, Marinos Rhode Makris, to have you meet your gods. I have been blessed by mine with abilities—and I’m sure they will guarantee you a swift end.”

Trembling, Rhode shut his eyes, mumbling jittered and jarred prayers to Athena, praying that he would be spared. His whole form shook violently as he felt the soldier approach, “I am a demon, blessed with the blood of our enemies… to walk with the night. To be free as night reigns. I am a soldier of the Night, of Mars. I will not let this information get out, scholar. Atlantis will die with you.”

Almost like a lover had touched him, Rhode felt lips on his neck… and then the most eerie of pin-prickly of sensations. “Athena, save me,” he breathed, reaching for her form glossed in stone and stilled, leaning into the devilish creature who fed off of him; Rhode Makris felt euphoria [much to the laughter of the other Romans, who laughed when he bit back a moan] and then nothing at all.

He felt numb, yes, but he was not dead.

His blue eyes popped open, and the Roman bit back a sound of surprise, “How are you alive?”

Rhode offered an eerie smile, “Hagios. Athena is with me.” The scholar jutted out his arm with the strength of a thousand men, snatching the man who had bitten him and flinging him to the floor.  
Argus looked on in fear as Rhode locked his gaze with the other. His chiton dragged against the stone while he took a moment to stand on shaky legs. He would have his vengeance.

Hunger screamed from the pit of his stomach, urging him to move forward, to take his vengeance in blood, to watch the light leave Argus’s eyes… and he did just that, sinking his teeth—which had elongated—into his lover’s throat. Seeing himself reflected in the other’s eyes sent a stabbing chill down Rhode’s spine, but he persisted, for this betrayal had shaken him to the core.

When he was sure that he had taken his fill of blood and of payback, he withdrew from his lover, watching as Argus gave one final whimper before falling back to the ground in a crumpled heap.  
He stopped breathing a moment after Rhode came back to attention, whirling around to face the other soldiers in the room.

All of them gulped and took a step back.

Meanwhile, the Roman who had bit Rhode stood up and gingerly brushed himself off. Like one would coax a tantruming animal, he held his hand out, murmuring softly, “Come with me, Rhode. It seems as if my gods have other plans for you. However…” He pointed at the scrolls and murmured, “Destroy those. Atlantis can not die with you alive, can it? Any written record can, however. Keep to it that you never write about that fabled city again. I am Gaius, and you are now reborn.”

Rhode shivered, peering at his life’s work as they ripped it away from him… as Argus had ripped him into pieces moments before. Though… a part of Rhode knew that this was only the beginning: that there were more pieces to be lost.

**PRESENT DAY, NEW YORK CITY, CENTRAL PARK**

That was what John lived for: the wind whistling through his hair, his wings fluttering in synchronization. He zipped fluidly through the air, watching as the sun flitted off the unsuspecting humans below. A light trail of pink fairy dust followed after his form, mirroring his wings, and he suppressed a tiny groan when he saw himself in the water. He gave a slight twirl, hovering for a moment, allowing himself to scan the area. Everyone was going on with their daily lives—the supernatural community and the humans.

His gaze stayed a little too long on one of the hidden ponds, and he gave a sigh, for he saw the Queen of the mermaids there.

Teyla hailed him with a hand as she sat by two others—a wizard and one of her handmaidens. “Gwydion and Avalon found a baby dragon here in the park today.”

John’s eyebrow rose, and he went to say something, but Gwydion interrupted him. The young wizard broke into a laugh, muttering in his best story-telling voice, “We found her over near Ronon’s pack. They were defending her until we could get to her! We’ve named her Jeanette.”

The fairy rolled his eyes, “Hey, Gwyd, remind me to tell you not to name anything ever again.”  
Gwydion crossed his arms, “That’s rich coming from you, My King!”

John rolled his eyes, swatting a handful of pixie dust at the wizard and his friend, “Cut the crap, Gwyd. It was one time.”

Avalon cradled the dragon close and cooed to her, patting her scaly head and mumbling, “We should get going. Come now, Gwydion…. Before you make a fool of yourself.” She tapped her nose and gave a bow in the direction of Teyla, and John found himself smiling. Avalon always had that sense of respect that Gwydion faltered with. The young wizard followed his best friend, snapping his fingers out for his staff. In a moment, the pair and their dragon had disappeared.

Sheppard diverted his attention back to Teyla, who offered him a smile.

She flicked her tail in his direction and muttered, “You look well today. How was flying?”

A grin danced on his features, “Pretty damn good, now that the sun’s out. When are you due back to be on Athos?”

The mermaid was silent for a moment, her lips pursed, “I do not know. Others in my family are still trying to get over the fact I have inherited the throne. It will be a while until I may visit my home again. For now, I shall stay here.”

John nodded, “That seems like a good idea. And have you heard about that new Vampire Clan that started up in New York? Apparently the leader is one of the Firsts….” A chill ripped through his spine, “I wonder if I should go check them out. See if maybe they’re an ally. Would you want to come with me? They own a bar called, ‘McKay’s.”

Teyla was thoughtful, “Perhaps this is better suited for Ronon and his pack. The rain will most likely pick up, and that is bad travel for me, even with the weather fae doing all they can.”

Sheppard gave a nod, glancing down at his watch, “Shit. I gotta go to work.”

The mermaid offered a smirk, “Make those golden flowers bloom, John!”

John offered a nod in reply, waving as he burst into the air, pink wings magnificent and fluttering as quick as they could. He was late enough already! What about little miss Madison-- that lovely girl who always stopped by before she went to school? John didn’t care about many humans in this world, but he did have a soft spot for her.

Sheppard gave a hum, hovering for a split second to check his position in relevance to his shop. Mumbling something about it being exceptionally windy today, the Fairy King zipped down to a little alleyway, making sure to conceal his position with a bit of fairy dust.

A voice ripped him from his thoughts—“It’s a good morning.”

Noticing Ronon standing there, looking as human as possible and leaning against the doorway to his shop, one of John’s eyebrows rose.

“Teyla and the water fae came up with a new potion. You can barely see the legs.”

Sheppard rolled his eyes, “Look, I’m already late as it is. But it looks good. Really beats Woolsey’s, doesn’t it?”

Ronon’s gruff laughter rumbled through the air, “And we don’t have to sacrifice any hemlock for his help anymore.”

John smirked at that, “You’re gonna prank him again. I see it in your eyes, Ronon.”

The satyr shrugged, “I don’t know, Sheppard—what gave you that idea?”

Shoving his hands into his pockets and stalking a little bit down the alleyway, Ronon said, “Madison was looking for you. I let her in. And John—you up for McKay’s later today? Teyla told me. You know how she gets with news.”

“Yeah. We might find some new allies against Caldwell and the Hunters. If you don’t mind--”  
Ronon gave a stamp of his feet, a normal satyr mannerism, and with a small hum of his pan pipes, he was gone. Typical Ronon to never say goodbye. Time to get to work. All it took was a little faith, trust, and fairy dust.

John laughed to himself for a moment before he willed away his wings. Taking a quick notice that he was wearing typical fairy garb, his eyes fluttered closed and he summoned his work uniform.  
Opening his eyes after the little pink fairy dust storm that had just attacked him, the fairy was perfectly hidden behind a layer of mundane well-wishings in the form of a black shirt, green vest, and khakis.

Sucking in a breath and resting his fingers on the golden door knob, John released it as he slipped into the shop. Sun was filtering in through the windows and dancing off of all the plants. The grey tiled floor scuffed under his boots as he meandered forward, brown eyes skimming along to look for Madison. Hm. She wasn’t at the bookshelf like always—

An eyebrow rose as he leaned forward, peering behind the counter…

“MISTER SHEPPARD!” the child called, nearly scaring John out of his wits. The girl clutched a daisy to her chest, looking up at him from the tiny alcove where he hid the hemlock. John broke into a smile, leaning awkwardly over the counter and offering her a hand.

“What are you doing back there?” he asked, drawling it out with a tone of mock-wonder.

“Waiting for you!” Madison replied, smiling quite a great deal. It was true, a smile belonged on her face.

John backed away from the counter as she came to a standstill, “Don’t you have school?”

The child hopped up on the surface and twiddled her thumbs, mumbling, “Yes… but….”

“But what?” came the Fairy King, crossing his arms—“you gotta get going.”

Madison smiled guiltily but nodded, murmuring, “Okay.”

She hopped down from the counter.

John watched her go, but not before an idea popped into his head, “Wait. Let me see that daisy.”

“Are you gonna do some magic?” Madison asked as she jutted the flower in his direction, “because I haven’t seen you do magic in so long!”

Sheppard sent her a look, “Now, when I do this, you gotta be quiet.”

He shut his eyes as she quieted, focusing on the daisy and on gold, bringing the ideas together and merging them in his brain. With a bright pink flash, the daisy’s structure was shifted to that of pure gold, yet… it was still alive and well.

Madison jumped when the change happened and moved to hug John tightly. The fairy flushed and offered it to her, “Put this in your backpack. And keep him safe. His name… is Jerry. Make sure you water him twice a day. He requires more than your other flowers.”

The girl clutched Jerry tightly to her chest, stroking a few of his petals, “I will, Mister Sheppard! Come on, Jerry, you can walk me to school! I have a few questions for you when I get back!”

Sheppard leaned against the counter and saw her off—moving to the front to turn the “CLOSED” sign around. Today was gonna be a hell of a day.

**NORMANDY, 1944.**

“Carson, you’re dying,” Rodney murmured, fingers smoothing out along the medic, where bullet wounds were scattered all over his chest.

“Don’t you think I know that, Rodney?” came the Scot’s snark, silent prayers bubbling from his lips. Tears stained the edges of his cheeks, but Carson would not give into the emotion. He was trying to maintain strength for his friend.

McKay sheltered Carson with his body, giving a gruff sound from the bottom of his throat, “I’m only going to ask you once… so listen close, okay?”

Dr. Beckett nodded, squeezing Rodney’s arm, even as it got harder to breathe. How much time did he have left? Why did Rodney seem so… poignant to ask questions… now, of all times?

“If I could save you, would you want me to? Even if it would be hell?”

At that moment, McKay mentally prepared himself to give The Bite-- the bite that would change Carson into a vampire. He knew that thinking about it long enough would allow him to do it.

Beckett took a moment to blink, head inclining questioningly. McKay was impatient as he sent Carson a warning look, but his gaze softened when Beckett’s lips moved slowly to form his affirmation. Not giving the medic a moment further, Rodney leaned forward, sinking his fangs into the medic’s pristine flesh. The Scot’s fingers fluttered against McKay’s collar and he let out a low whimper.

Rodney pulled away from him after a beat, murmuring, “If your body can handle the change, you won’t die. I needed to feed, anyway. Too much blood has been spilled that I haven’t eaten.”

His blue eyes practically glowed in the dark; it was a little unsettling until Carson felt this slight burning ripping through him.

Dr. Beckett screamed and thrashed as Rodney held him down, murmuring soft, “I’m here. You’ll make it through this. Have faith.”

They laid there for a good while—ignoring the pouring rain—focused on the new shift in their friendship.

After the rain had subsided, and after Rodney had his fangs gorged with blood-- McKay helped him up, smirking, “You won’t be able to stand the sunlight for too long. It’s not deserting if you’re dead.”

Carson looked a little disturbed by that, shifting from foot to foot, boots squelching in the mud.

“Oh, don’t tell me you want to stay here.”

Beckett gave a soft cry of, “Maybe.”

Rodney shook his head, “As your sire, you’re gonna have to follow me. You made that deal when you said you wanted to live. Come on. You’re not going to die if you stand out in the sunlight—you’re just going to get ridiculous headaches and a hell of a sunburn.”

Carson stumbled after the soldier due to something that was not of his own volition and murmured a hasty thank you. That thank you fell on deafened ears.

It seemed that Rodney’s coven had finally gotten a solid start.

**PRESENT DAY, MCKAY’S BAR**

Blue eyes flickered along the crowd as his smirk was plain on his features. He held a single flute between his fingers, swirling the champagne around in a slow circle. Crowd watching was one of his favorite things, he found, and New York City was special in its own right. People were always dancing, always obsessed with things that were so trivial… that McKay almost wanted to laugh. It was nothing like Greece, nothing like the comforts of Canada—his own refuge from home… perhaps he would plan a trip back there… when Gaius wasn’t on his trail.

Slipping a small vial of blood out of his pocket, Rodney poured a bit in his drink and savored the taste slightly. Carson weaved in between a pair of magical beings who were arguing about that night’s sports game: such trivial, little things.

Stopping before his sire and giving a little head nod, the kind doctor whispered, “There is no sign yet of the fairy and his companion.”

Rodney rolled his eyes, tongue tracing slightly against his fangs, “If they want an alliance against those damn hunters, they’re not making it easy on themselves.”

Carson’s face softened, “He is the bloody fairy king. Give him a break.”

McKay snorted, “I think you need to feed, you’re delusional.”

Beckett shook his head, “I’m not delusional.”

The sire huffed, “You know, Grodin never talked back like this.”

“And we know where Grodin is—on the other side of a stake!”

McKay threw his hand, “Oh, please. I resurrected him. You knew that.”

“He’s still not well the same.”

Rodney shrugged, maneuvering his friend into the nearest chair, “If they don’t show in ten minutes, they’re the new enemies of the Makris clan. And spread it around. I, however, am going to go get my fill of… whatever.”

The vampire leader left his right hand man out in the front and vanished behind the nearest maroon curtain, while Carson Beckett sighed for the 5,908th time in his entire long-lasting life.

**SHEPPARD’S FLOWERS, PRESENT**

“Give me that wilting rose,” John called out to Ronon, “it’s customary you give something to a clan leader--”

Ronon rolled his eyes, interrupting as he snatched up the nearest brown rose from a black vase, “John. I’m 800 years old. Don’t you think I’ve seen my fair share of meetings? Seriously? And hurry up, Mr. Fairy King.”

John snorted, head snapping sassily as he placed the rose into the pocket of his jacket, “There should be a please in there, satyr.”

“Please, Mr. Fairy King,” Ronon said, tilting his fedora up, “me and the gang have a Bambi marathon scheduled later.”

John shrugged and turned to look in the longer mirror. He straightened his cuffs and tried to smooth down his hair—but of course, those strands wouldn’t stay still. Figures. Sending a smile his own way in the mirror, John took one last look. The suit was sleek and of the highest fae fabric: he looked dashing in it, and oh… he knew.

Sending one last gaze around the shop—from the tiled floor to the lazy fluttering curtains, to the hemlock stash and the oak bookcase, to the potions rack in the corner and to the large array of plants—John nodded and motioned for Ronon to follow.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna do the whole ‘I’m a Jedi’ thing like you always do,” the satyr murmured, arms crossed as he slipped out the door.

Sheppard smirked, walking out into the cool New York air and shutting the door behind him, “What, like this?”

Fingers moving up into the air like John was about to conduct the symphony of his life, Sheppard brought them down in circular motions, pink dust dancing off of his fingers and swirling through the glass of his shop. Almost immediately, it began working to his favor—shutting off the lights and powering down his little floral venture with nothing more than a simple flutter.

Ronon rolled his eyes as John got the thrill of his life—and quick as the wind, Sheppard’s Flowers closed down for the night. Turning the sign on the inside around, the pink dust fizzled into nothing.

“McKay’s is only two blocks away,” Ronon said, smirking, “I hope you’re hungry.”

John shrugged, “I could do with a little… bit of berries.”

The two of them made their little stroll down to the Makris clan’s hideout—nervous and full of tactically wasted energies—making small talk about Teyla and Madison, even going so far as to talk about the Hunting Group that had been making its way around town. The stars shone brightly as the moon peeked out of her little hiding place behind a cloud. In the night, dark fae did little circles as they flew. Wolf packs howled under the guise of family pets. Vampires stalked their victims. Succubuses tamed the hearts of men and women alike. All in all, it was darkness.

“They’re saying it’s Caldwell.”

“Caldwell? As in—Steven Caldwell? The guy who is related to Van Helsing?” John shook his head, shocked in the slightest.

“Yeah. What, were you zoning out when I told you?”

“A little.”

The satyr sighed, moving to open the door for John.

McKay’s was packed full of people. The crowd was sizeable, and John found himself wondering if the bar had more of a bohemian vibe… or if it was modeled after a night club. Bodies were pressed against each other, moving in sync—it seemed so distinctly out of place. Ronon crossed to the corner, glancing along the crowd for someone who seemed like they were looking out for another.

“Wait for me—I gotta go use the restroom before we meet with the clan head,” John said, grimacing. He pushed his way past people, turning into a big maroon curtain on accident.

Ronon meandered over to one of the vampires, a Scotsman, and said in greeting, “The Fairy King will be with us in a moment. He had to go handle his bladder.”

The Scotsman winced, “I’m Dr. Carson Beckett-- Dr. McKay’s right hand man. It’s a pleasure—did you say he went to the restroom… or did he go behind that curtain?”

The satyr shrugged, “I wasn’t watching him. John can handle his own.”

Carson frowned a thin line, “My sire is back there.”

Ronon broke out into a fit of laughter, “Don’t tell me Dr. McKay was feeding.”

Beckett nodded, blushing, “Aye, he was.”

“This suddenly got more interesting. Do you have Guinness here?”

Carson just sat lower in his seat.

The individual was stocky, clad in a fashionable suit and shoes. His hair was a light brown, and his eyes were as blue as the sea. That wasn’t a normal vampire eye color. Power seemed to emanate from his form, especially when he beckoned to John, “Come here. I assume Carson sent you through? You’ve signed the agreement?”

Blue, glowing eyes looked at the Fairy King expectantly, and John found himself reeled in. Well, this certainly wasn’t the restroom. Sheppard nodded once, and that was all it took for the vampire to be upon him. Who cared if he lied? Then again, almost all of his logical thoughts had died with the way that the vampire had looked at him.

Rodney stepped forward, muttering, “Don’t hold onto me if you can help it. This isn’t like I’m giving you a hickey because we’re dating. It’s dirty and nasty, like a one-night stand.”

John gave a hasty nod and didn’t even bother to mutter his affirmation.

The vampire hummed, pointing towards the chair with a dismissive air, “What are you waiting for? Take a seat. I’m not going to coddle you.”

The Fairy King stumbled back into the chair, appraising the other with his eyes. Rodney merely glanced on lifeless, as if this sort of thing didn’t phase him anymore.

“I’m only going to take a pint. After this, you can be on your way and do whatever you do with your miserably short life.”

Again, John was silent.

Rodney sneered a little at the fact his little snack was so quiet, but—that’s what happened often. Especially when they fell under his Gaze: a pheromone that made prey easier to catch and entice for feeding. Everyone was susceptible to it.

McKay approached him, taking the man’s shoulder in one hand, murmuring against John’s ear, “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt… much.”

The clan leader sunk his fangs into the neck of the Fairy King, and he knew almost immediately that he wasn’t biting a human. The fae’s blood danced along his tongue, the faint strawberry taste almost bitter in a mouth that had been starved of kindness. Rodney tried to pull away from him out of shock alone, but the fact that John clutched his jacket so tenderly made him take a second and just drink.

After all, it was blood, wasn’t it? It still sustained him.

A soft moan left Sheppard’s lips, as most people did, and that caused odd little shivers to tumble down Rodney’s spine. How could that sound so…

McKay pulled back a moment later, a little red in his pale face. He crossed his arms and looked back at John with anger in his features.

“Well, I assume—you’re the Fairy King of the Fae in this part of New York, aren’t you? I should have known you didn’t sign anything. I’m Dr. Rodney McKay… or as some know me by my First name… Rhode Makris.”

Rodney picked up a nearby rag and passed it to him, scowling, “Use this and meet me out there, will you? There’s bandaids on the table behind you. After all, we have much to discuss. Don’t be too… slow.”

John rubbed his neck slightly; after the overall sensation of pleasure had died down, his skin felt a little tender. He watched in silence as Rodney ripped back the curtain in a very angry manner and left.

Frowning, Sheppard stood up, moving to snatch a band aid off the counter. He wiped at his neck with a sigh and peered in the mirror. Two tiny puncture holes showed through. They weren’t that noticeable, but—it was better to put a band aid on the wound and call it a night.

Carson gave a frown when he saw Rodney’s angry form slinking through the crowd.

“So—no one told me that the Fairy King would accidentally walk into my FEEDING ROOM,” he muttered, sending a frustrated look pointedly in Beckett’s direction.

The vampire flinched, shrugging, “His associate didn’t mind him.”

Ronon began to smirk, especially when he peered John meandering towards them, “He can look out for himself. I think it’s kind of funny. At least now… we have a semblance of trust.”

Rodney took an angry seat, peering at Ronon curiously, “Fine. You have a point. Now—shall we begin?”

After a few beers and berry tonics, the head of the Makris clan and the Fairy King of New York had come to an agreement: the Caldwell line needed to stop their hunting of magical creatures. Rodney was pretty pissed and wouldn’t stop sending pointed glances towards John, but a few Scottish phrases and smirks from Ronon stopped that.

“Who runs the werewolves in this town?” Rodney had posed, fingers interlocked, form tense. He hadn’t touched his champagne since the conversation had begun. Then again, he had had his fill of blood from John, and he had little need for alcohol.

“Aiden Ford,” John offered, flicking at the umbrella of his drink.

That mannerism only annoyed Rodney, who gave an eye roll, and then a soft cry of, “OW!” as Carson smacked his arm lightly.

Ronon merely kept on smirking, the eternal Cheshire cat of the group. His glass was empty and placed upside down, a satyr custom of thanks.

“Well, this Aiden—he’s not prejudiced against vampires, is he? Why didn’t he come with you?”

John gave a low sigh, “We had a… falling out.” The umbrella was no longer interesting, and thus—Sheppard let it alone.

“What kind of falling out?” McKay asked, weary.

This time, Ronon was the one who spoke up, “He went a little crazy thinking that werewolves were the one chosen supernatural species just because some squirrel with rabies bit him.”

John nodded, drawling out, “When he came to us to let us know.. I didn’t react positive enough.”

“He shot him with mistletoe,” Ronon said, chuckling, as John slipped a little back into his seat.

Rodney merely looked at the Fairy King with a raised eyebrow. When John turned to look at a passing woman, McKay’s look turned into a faint smirk. Carson caught it, and a Scottish eyebrow rose in wonder.

“More berry tonic?” Rodney offered, his features a thin mask, for John had looked back.  
Sheppard shook his head, but McKay poured himself another anyway.

“So…” Ronon began, stamping his satyr foot against the wood, “why did you guys move here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Rodney immediately stiffened, his grip tightening on his glass. It was clear that Ronon was apt to pry, even when he shouldn’t.

McKay sucked in a breath [despite the fact vampires didn’t need to breathe], his lips pursing grossly. He didn’t want to reveal too much, but he didn’t want to reveal too little.

“The vampire who made me… he was last seen around here.”

A hush went across the table, and John averted his eyes. They all knew what that meant: Rodney was trying to kill his maker so that he would be able to move on from this plane. Rodney wanted to be able to die in peace.  
“He goes by the alias of Malcolm Tunney now. Back then, he used to go by…” McKay brushed it off, murmuring, “Whatever. He’s worse than Bill Nye and Neil deGrasse Tyson. Those two vampire boyfriends have been getting under my last nerve.”

A fae eyebrow rose, and John said, “Are you telling me that those TV physicists are… vampires?”  
“Of course not,” Rodney echoed sarcastically, “they just drink blood for the fun of it. Neil is what… 60 on posted media sites. He hasn’t aged that much, and neither has Bill. They’ve been in the game since the beginning.”

Sheppard rolled his eyes, “Geeze, tone it down, will you? It was just a question.”

Carson shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Ronon looked on, passive—seemingly numb to the whole ordeal. He checked his watch, growling in the back of his throat, “Thumper’s gonna be pissed.”

Rodney sent him a weird look, but John waved him off, “His pack was going to watch Bambi tonight. Trust me, they do it a lot.”

The satyr got up to leave, fumbling for his hat—he had taken it off sometime when the conversation had gotten a little heated [Rodney had such a temper for his cool reputation.]

“Sheppard, do you want me to walk you home, or are you going to hang out with the vampire you donated blood to?”

John gave a long sigh, sending Ronon a look, but the satyr merely smirked.

“I’ll stay here for a little while, okay? I’m not a blood bank—“

“Sure, Mr. Fairy King.”

Ronon turned on his heel, stamped his foot, and then opened the door with a soft click. It shut behind him, and the silence that followed was more than uncomfortable. Rodney shifted in his seat visibly and John did the same, eyes moving anywhere but to the man sitting in front of the other.

Carson, who was sitting there with a polite smile on his face, excused himself to attend to other matters—code word for, “You two need to talk about what went on.”

However, Rodney and John simply stared into the nothingness that came with awkward moments, and both contemplated why the feeding had felt so good.

**CENTRAL PARK**

Teyla looked up at the stars: the night that had fallen had been a beautiful one, and the stars began to sing of their adventures. The North star seemed to be especially vocal as the mermaid lounged on one of the benches. She had sat out of water long enough so that her tail no longer showed, but even she couldn’t shake out the sea shell clip she had in her hair, nor the gleam of mermaid scales on her fingertips.

Of course, no human would know what she was… but a hunter could.

The mermaid typed idly at her sea-pad, scrolling through a list of memos from the Athosian Council—

“ _My Queen,_  
_It is not yet time to return home. The other mermaids have begun to protest due to the circumstances surrounding your father’s death._  
_Chancellor Elizabeth of the Tree Nymphs has come to your aid, but there is no telling how long it will be for things to settle down._  
_I am doing my best to maintain composure._  
_I miss you._  
_May your scales shine bright and may the stars tell you truth._  
_Yours,_  
_Kanaan._ ”

She smiled at that last bit and opened a new tab to reply, fingers swift along the sea-pad.

“ _Kanaan,_  
_I miss you, too._  
_I had figured Elizabeth would have_ ”

Hearing some rustling, Teyla paused in her reply, an Athosian eyebrow raising. The stars began to cry out, and that was when the mermaid knew that danger was on her tail.

Quick as ever, she typed:  
“ _SOS—HUNTERS._ ”

And then hit send.

No sooner than when she did that, she felt the burning cool of coal on her shoulder, and then the world tumbled to darkness as her sea-pad fell into her lap and the stars began to scream.

**MCKAY’S BAR**

“John! JOHN!” Woolsey cried, scampering into the bar with a clatter. The wizard looked dead tired, bags underneath his eyes that Coco Chanel wouldn’t touch for sake of propriety.

Fortunately, most of the crowd had left earlier in the night, so he didn’t cause much of a stir, but the very ill-tempered vampire and his right hand man were very annoyed when they heard the wizard’s claims.

“Oh, look who the wishing well dragged in. Still making up spells, Richard?” Rodney sneered, tapping his thumb to the flute of his drink. His head inclined slightly as another jab struck the air, “You look like you’ve just crawled out of wherever wizards like you come from. Narnia? Oh, oh… Westeros? Middle Earth? You’re a joke—“

Feeling a slight tap on his shoulder, Rodney eased up… Carson brought that out in him.

Overly flustered and clutching a gigantic tome of spells to his chest, the wizard shot Rodney a look. Almost immediately, the air had a slight electric feel to it, and suddenly, McKay felt as if he shouldn’t have made fun of Woolsey.

“This establishment is a joke, Rhode Makris,” came a deep rumble from within the seemingly small man, voice exemplified by his magic.

Carson’s hand jutted out and landed on Rodney’s forearm: he gave McKay’s arm a scared squeeze, but Rodney was firm. He wasn’t scared. In fact, it was almost laughable that Richard would pull something like this.

“Bloody hell, Rodney, APOLOGIZE!”

The vampire leader was firm, hands smacking down on the table, lips pulled into a slight malicious grin, “Look, Gandalf, I’m not frightened of you. Now—if you would be so kind… and not stupid… please, tell me why you’re here for the Fairy King. He’s back there using the restroom if you must know. I swear, fairies and their bladders.”

Woolsey gave an eye roll, the slight tingle in the air disappearing like Atlantis did into the ocean.

“Teyla Emmagan, the newly queen of the mermaids-- she was kidnapped. We received word from her mate, Kanaan only a half hour ago.”

Suddenly, everything held way more gravity. The tension in the room was palpable until a drawl could be heard, “What’s the matter? Who died?”

Woolsey froze at the poor choice of words, balancing his wizard’s cap on his head with a sigh, “No one died, but they’re pretty close to dying. Teyla. She’s missing.”

The air was knocked out of him, and Sheppard had to clutch his chest, “You’re kidding me. No. There’s no way—“

“Kanaan sent us the sea-mail she had been typing when it occurred,” Woolsey muttered, hand moving towards his cloak. He fished out a tablet and offered it to the Fairy King, “Ronon doesn’t know about what happened, and us in the Magic Clave intend to keep it that way. You know what happens when satyrs rampage. And we can’t forget that the squirrels might see it as an opportunity to take over the world again. Aiden’s pack has been tracking them, but… we need fae magic.”

John’s eyes skimmed along the message as a deep, dark, and cumbersome feeling formed in the pit of his stomach: Teyla was in trouble.

**SOMEWHERE IN NEW YORK**

Her shoulder burned, but there was a deeper pain in her leg, and she could see a few missing scales on the back of her hands. Shame flashed red hot on the queen’s face—a low rumble broke through the silence, and Teyla’s head bobbed towards the sound… fighting constraints while doing so.

The area was too dark in front of her. She could barely make out that someone was sitting there, but swimming with barracudas had taught her one thing: always suspect that there was someone watching.

Her mouth pulled into a gentle gritting of teeth, golden-brown locks swishing as she struggled to get a better look at her kidnappers.

“Believe me… when my friends comes to save me, you will regret what you have done.”

The voice that answered her was a gross mixture of gruff and sickly sweet, “How long does it take for a mermaid to start begging for water?”

Teyla sent a defiant look to the shadows as a shiver ran down her spine.

**MCKAY’S BAR**

“I assume—“ Rodney said, looking at the Fairy King, “that you’ll need the clan’s assistance with this?”

John’s features were set hard: jaw clenched, eyes filled with an indescribable amount of rage. His fists were clenched at their sides, and the pristine fae fabric simply didn’t fit how he looked at that moment in time. He looked ready for war.

Rodney, however, looked more like he would rather get a pedicure.

After a beat, the Fairy King murmured, “Yes. I do need the Makris clan’s assistance.”

It seemed forever until Rodney crossed his arms and offered John a response, “Fine.”

McKay’s lips turned up into a devious smirk, and he turned to face Carson, “Watch the bar, will you?”

John gave him a look of surprise, but it quickly melted away when he saw the vampire leader’s gaze. There was something about those blue, glowing eyes that made him realize that there was always a fire flickering right below the surface. What was it? It certainly looked dangerous, but Sheppard didn’t know for sure.

Carson nodded to his sire and went to clean up a few of the glasses with his ultra-fast speed—which left a few tablecloths swishing aimlessly. They had known each other so long that words weren’t the only way they could communicate.

As seconds passed, the pit in John’s stomach only served to worsen: the heavy feeling threatened to make him double over. Everyone knew what hunters did to supernatural creatures! Ugh, the “supernatural.” Oh please. Just because it wasn’t natural to hunters didn’t mean it wasn’t natural for other beings.

It was always the coal: that black, solid and crumbling substance that served to make life as a supernatural creature a living hell.

“If you don’t stop zoning out,” Rodney snapped, “we won’t be on her trail in time, and she’ll be one dried out fish.”

A chill ripped through John, and he muttered, “Don’t you have any respect, Rodney?”

The vampire quipped with a fang-y grin, “I lost respect for the dead and the dying a long time ago.”

The Fairy King didn’t have any words to offer to that, so he simply slipped out of the door, propelled himself into the cool night air, and began to fly.

**SOMEWHERE IN NEW YORK**

The bind cut into her skin. It was one of those special ropes that the hunters used, the rope that had coal rubbed into it.

Teyla bit her lip, sweat beading down her forehead.

 _No, she wasn’t thirsty yet._  
_No, she wasn’t likely to go Siren on anyone._  
_No, she wasn’t thinking that this was the end._  
_No, she had to stay positive._

When the hunter came up and tightened the bindings, Teyla bit her lip so hard it bled.

**CENTRAL PARK**

Rodney and John zipped into the park at nearly the same time: vampires were unparalleled in matters of ground transport, and had been participating in the Olympics for some time. They simply could run really fast. But like with all equals and opposites, fairies were unparalleled in matters of flight—so in air and on land, both leaders were equally matched.

Aiden Ford gave an eye roll as they both entered. His wolf pack was busy sniffing the area and had even sectioned it off. The young werewolf looked them over with a stern gaze but blue eyes stared back at the wolfish browns: it was really unnerving and tense.

“My King… you did NOT just bring a vampire into Ford Wolf territory…” Aiden said, arms crossed—closed off.

Rodney stepped forward even as John went to speak, “I’m here as an ally. I’m sure we can put the differences of our species aside for his friend, hm? Or do I have to rip your throat out where you stand?”

John’s hand jutted out to rest on McKay’s shoulder, pulling him back, “Shut up, will you? Don’t need this right now.”

Rodney shot him a look but stalked behind the Fairy King.

“Yeah, I had to. Better to draw in as many resources as we can to look for Teyla,” John said, treading lightly on the werewolf’s tail. Honestly, he didn’t think Aiden was ever going to forgive him for the whole mistletoe incident.

“Fine, whatever,” Aiden said, looking towards the moon, “you’re lucky it wasn’t the rabid moon. Not one of us would be able to have been talked out of shifting. Your vampire buddy better not do something stupid. The pack won’t stop in putting him down.”

McKay piped up from behind John, “I wouldn’t do that unless you’re like to start a war. I’m a First. If anything, you should watch how you are around me.”

Aiden blanched in the moonlight, and he sent Sheppard an eyebrow raise, “No way—I didn’t hear of any Firsts being in the area. He can’t be legit, can he?”

John hummed a sigh, “He is, Ford. Just let the species differences fall right now, will you? We’re all worried about Teyla. Don’t make me pull out the Fairy King rank.”

The werewolf’s hands jutted up, a show of annoyance, “Fine, fine. As I said… whatever, My King.”

Sheppard rolled his eyes, “Now lead me to the crime scene before we get caught by a random group of hunters.”

As Aiden showed the way, Rodney McKay couldn’t help but smirk.

**SOMEWHERE IN NEW YORK**

“What do you mean… one of the hunters went rogue?” Caldwell cried, fingers pressing against the leather of his seat.

“No, sir… an entire group of hunters went rogue. Kolya, he's calling himself and his followers the Genii. A weird variation of genie. We caught him stockpiling a crap ton of coal.”

Caldwell shook his head, moving to a standing position, “It'll be an all out war with the Abnormals. We can't have that. Picking some off that are a danger to society as we know it is okay. But going after them blindly-- no. Call Jack. Tell him about Kolya and tell the entire Hunters Council that New York might be a battlefield pretty soon.”

The other members of the Hunters group moved to leave their hideout: a classy built Brooklyn apartment that was furnished with very lumberjack-esque furniture.

Hermiod stayed behind. He was the only non-Tau’ri among the group. Hermiod was an Asgard, a member of an alien race that had come from the stars to stop the supernatural threat. Herm had worked on numerous occasions with the Men In Black and other various organizations, but he maintained a strong friendship with Caldwell.

“I do hope that this does not turn out sour for us,” the little gray alien said to his friend, fingers crossed and peering over his hands like the Godfather.

Caldwell shrugged, looking back down to the alien from vantage, “Kolya was dumb and I hadn't saw it. And before I forget-- call Evan Lorne. We need a vampire specialist. Heard that one of the Firsts is here. I may be related to Helsing, but we deal more with werewolves.”

Hermiod nodded, bringing up a complex HUD and moving to send out all the necessary alerts.

“God forbid this doesn't go in our favor.”

**CENTRAL PARK**

“There's not that much to go on,” Sheppard declared, fingers roaming along the underside of the bench: he had found little to anything about Teyla's disappearance and had found more chewing gum than anything else.

Rodney rolled his eyes, “You can not be serious. I thought fae magic was pretty powerful, and here you are being an idiot.”

John was adamant, “What do you want, McKay? A typical Fae spell takes three days of charging.”

McKay shook his head, “Since when? You guys used to do magic all the time and with little care--”

John’s eyebrow rose, “We haven't been able to do that since the 1300’s. How old are you? And don't forget, Rodney, that I am a member of the Seelie Court. I am it's king. We don't use magic like the Unseelie Court does-- so uncaring and unassuming. Magic isn't something that should be used by everyone. People need proper training.”

The vampire stalked around the bench, blue eyes glowing in the dark, “Your people used to be strong, Sheppard. And by the way, what the hell is a fairy like you named John Sheppard?”

The fairy king shrugged, “We take mortal names when we’re born and we let them go to pass on into the Rainbow Realm.”

Rodney's eyes narrowed, “Seriously? Do you know how dumb that sounds? At least the other fae called it the Dark Realm.”

John looked unamused, “Again-- different type of magic!”

McKay waved a dismissive hand, “So you're just gonna give up the name and die one day? That's how fae live? Seems kinda lonely. You have functioning immortality but give it up to go into a whole other dimension. What were you like when you were a faeling, John?”

Sheppard crossed his arms and stood up from.his kneeling position before the bench, “We are supposed to be looking for Teyla. You're not supposed to be grilling me to save yourself from boredom!”

The vampire shrugged, “What else am I to do then? Your fae magic won't work quick enough and I'm not opening anything serious up to serve you. Gotta be smart here.”

“You wanna talk about what is actually smart and what isn't?”

If Rodney didn't have super speed, he would have gotten punched in the jaw.

**SOMEWHERE IN NEW YORK**

Relief washed over her as the bucket of water poured along her skin.

“Why are we giving her water?”

“We’re only keeping her alive so we can catch that Fairy King and make him do spells for us. Fae magic can change the world and remake it in our image,” Ladon said, looking to Kolya with a smile on his features.

Kolya's gruff voice echoed through the air, “We'll remake a world without supernatural creatures. It’ll be a better place.”

Ladon nodded, moving to sharpen a few stakes, “Did you hear about that First?”

The head hunter smirked, “Knock out two birds with one stone. The Fairy King and a First Vampire. We’ll have to draw both of them in. Ladon-- get the hostages, will you? Get that little short Czech with the weird accent. When the King gets on the trail, we’ll spill his blood.”

Ladon’s face scrunched up almost as if he wanted to say otherwise, but he didn’t. Instead he slipped passed Kolya and went to go search for that one man he was speaking about.

Kolya wasn’t going to let this slip by-- ridding the world of a First was unheard of. It could lead to prestige.

His hunters group could be secured in with Helsing.

**CENTRAL PARK**

“You’ve done it now, Rodney,” John said, staring at the glowing purple thread that ran from his right wrist to McKay’s left.

The vampire rolled his eyes, baring fangs, “It’s certainly more progress than you’ve made. Now at least it’ll only take 6 hours for us to find her.”

“But we’re stuck,” the fairy murmured, “practically to the hip! We’re just attached at the wrists!”

“Oh, please. Like it’s that big of a deal,” Rodney said, accentuating his words with an eyeroll, “What, have you not went to the restroom in a while?”

“Not particularly, no,” John sassed back.

Rodney shrugged, “Oh well. I have things to do tonight and so you'll just have to tag along.”

The Fae almost protested, but when met with blue glowing eyes and an air of pomposity equal to Napoleon, John relented. Still, the poor man was dragged behind Rodney for some time until they started walking side by side.

 

\--- And thus, that's all I have.


	2. List of Things That Would Have Been Added

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other aspects Of Golden Flower Petals that would have been explored!  
> 

  * Radek Zelenka would have been used as bait and changed by Rodney and saved
  * Laura Cadman would have been introduced as a Hunter who had fae blood
  * Find out that Ronon's pack is full of random creatures  
Satyr = Sateda  
The same would occur with Evan Lorne
  * The Squirrels would have been introduced [they're the Wraith]  
Todd would be John's Squirrel buddy and would have helped in the Hunters war
  * Rodney and John would have begun dating extensively after the Hunters war with them ended  
They would have focused on Gaius afterwards
  * Rodney would have found out in a confrontation that John's fae blood was turning him human
  * Teyla would have been saved and her and Elizabeth would have guided Rodney to Atlantis so he could be cured without the super aging effects of John's blood
  * There would have been an extensive tree scene where Elizabeth has the tree nymphs build a bridge out of trees so they could get to Atlantis
  * Most everyone in Atlantis would be starpeople-- and they would be all of the original sg-1 team members
  * Rodney would ruthlessly kill Tunney tbh
  * Rodney would proclaim his love for John after being told his vampire memories would be wiped due to the fact the machine the starpeople would use could only maintain enough consciousness
  * Jeannie Miller would take Rodney in because he always protected Madison and her
  * Rodney would pass by John's flower shop with Madison one day 
  * The story would end with John making Rodney a flower of gold and the dialogue would have went like this:  
"You sure you don't remember me, Rodney?"  
"Not particularly. I think I would have remembered your face. Why?"  
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."  
"...Try me."  
AND HERE JOHN MAKES HIM A FLOWER AND TOTAL END STORY.



So, yeah, that was my entire plan for the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might continue this.  
> But I'll put it as finished, so if I never get to it, no one will be upset.

**Author's Note:**

> This work was previously abandoned. I'm partial to it, so I'm gonna add things.
> 
> I got extreme McShep feels from earlier works.
> 
> See y'all in the new updates.


End file.
